In the heart of Tenochtitlán, under the blazing midday sun, the majestic Templo Mayor stood, the brightest jewel of the Mexica Empire.
At the center of this vibrant metropolis, the Templo Mayor dominated the skyline. Its pyramidal structure, over 60 meters high, seemed to touch the sky. The pyramid was composed of seven layers, each built upon the previous one, like the rings of a tree that grows and expands over time.
At dawn, when the first rays of the sun caressed the city, one could see the glow of the temple of Huitzilopochtli, the god of war and the sun, at the top of the pyramid. Its facade painted a deep red, reflected fire and blood, symbols of life and sacrifice. Beside it, the temple of Tlaloc, the god of rain and fertility, shone in a deep blue, evoking the vital force of water.
It had been a whole day since the bison appeared, and although people did not know what to call them, I made sure they were told they were called prairie bison. In the main hall of the Great Palace of Tenochtitlán, torches illuminated the space, casting dancing shadows over the imposing columns and walls decorated with reliefs of ancient warriors. The air was charged with tension and anticipation. The news of the arrival of one hundred thousand bison near the city had awakened greed and the desire for power among the city's elite, which was inevitable; to be honest, I was more distracted by football than by resolving this.
It had been agreed that all parties would meet to discuss fair distribution, although everyone knew it was a joke.
The main hall of the palace was full. In the center, on an elevated platform, were the seats of the royal family. Around them, the twenty representatives of noble families, priests in their gold-embroidered robes, and wealthy merchants, all dressed in their finest attire, formed a wide but tense circle.
If you ask how I plan to use the great bison that are aggressive by nature, I would like to mention that through purchase, I made them as temperamental as cows. Now imagine a bison as docile as a cow that doesn't mind your presence, one you can command without any fear to attack or perform other actions as normally done; let's not go into detail.
Then, from the main entrance, the representatives of the 20 pīpiltin that make up the empire were arriving.
They were being guided by the other two leaders: the family of Totoquihuatzin from the great house of Tlacopan and the family of Nezahualcóyotl from the great house of Texcoco. I also found out that many people use the names of their ancestors, just like the Europeans.
While Nezahualcóyotl was an old man who exuded a feeling of trust and a military aura, Totoquihuatzin was the opposite; it seemed he had been crowned just a few years ago and was a middle-aged man. It was said he liked to calculate, although it is also true that he is a prudent person and a good diplomat.
Behind them were the other 18 families, including the Huexotzinco, Xochimilco, Chalco, Tezcotzinco, Otompan, and the rest (I got lazy writing this part, sorry).
Already in the hall, everything was ready; even my two cousins, Cuitláhuac and Moctezuma Xocoyotzin, had come from afar. My parents had not yet arrived. After the nobles took their seats, the priests arrived, who also came from the noble class, but due to the separation of secular and religious, they could only dedicate themselves to being priests as they were in charge of performing sacrifices. They were led by Cihuatl, a high-ranking priest linked to and worshiping Huitzilopochtli.
The great merchants, owners of some of the mercantile guilds, also arrived, although neither the pipiltin nor the priests wanted them there, the pressure they exerted forced their acceptance at this meeting.
After everyone involved was present, they awaited the arrival of my father, who did not delay too long; even if he had taken longer, people would not consider it disrespectful.
The Cihuacóatl, a figure akin to a co-emperor or prime minister, stepped out first from one side of the hall and proclaimed loudly.
"The huey tlatoani has arrived, all present your respects to the representative of the gods, our great governor, and powerful military leader," he said with a great deep voice that could be heard in every corner of the hall. Moments later, warriors in full leather uniforms came out; they were the famous Otomi warriors, experts in all kinds of weapons. At their waist was the Macuahuitl, a wooden sword with rows of obsidian, and in their hand was a spear.
They wore feathered headdresses from birds like the quetzal, symbolizing their valor and rank. These headdresses could be simple or very elaborate, depending on the warrior's status. They were the superior military order to the Jaguars and Eagles, the elite among the elite, the emperor's guard, the last line of defense, and the loyal Huey Tlatoani.
I had seen them very few times; their duty was not to guard the palace or city gates but to ensure the emperor's safety and carry out any activity the Huey Tlatoani ordered.
Then came the most powerful man in all of Mesoamerica. The Huey Tlatoani wore elaborate clothes made of fine cotton, and precious feathers, and decorated with jewels. On his head was a copilli, a crown adorned with quetzal feathers and other exotic birds, with touches of silver and gold.
Everyone bowed and reverenced, avoiding eye contact as a sign of respect, followed by my mother, who went and sat on her throne.
Imagine an elaborate, elevated throne made of fine wood and decorated with inlays of jade, turquoise, and precious metals. With a high back adorned with carvings of gods and symbols of power and equally ornate armrests, the throne manifests Huey Tlatoani's grandeur and authority. Placed on a platform made of parts of jade and precious stones.
Highlighting even more his attire and everything, truly the place anyone would love to be.
Ahuízotl, my father, began with a speech: "Today is a special day, not only for the gods but also for us. We have been blessed with the arrival of these creatures we have decided to call bison. But their hunting and distribution must be fair and beneficial for our people."
After my father's speech, a nobleman, Itzcóatl, known for his cunning, stood up. "My family has the experience and resources to lead the hunt. We can guarantee the most bison for the empire."
He comes from the Huejotzingo family, known for being warriors and expert hunters; he spoke first, not caring about the others present.
Everyone turned to look at him, and he seemed to realize his mistake and quickly sat down.
Taking advantage of the moment, Cihuatl, a high-ranking priest, interrupted. "The gods' blessing should not be monopolized by a few. Distribution must be guided by the priests to ensure divine favor."
Intending to secure many for his part, promoting that he has divine favor.
Cuauhtláhuac, a young member of the royal family, who is my cousin and Moctezuma Xocoyotzin's brother, ambitious, laughed. "Divine favor? What we need are men and weapons, not prayers and rituals." His words provoked murmurs of disapproval among the priests and some nobles.
It was to be expected that something like this would happen; he prefers the bellicose over the religious, and there are always frictions on occasion.
Moctezuma, the emperor's heir, stood up and quickly reprimanded him. "Cuauhtláhuac, your ignorance is as great as your ambition. Without the gods' blessing, these bison could bring more misfortunes than benefits. Besides, we have forgotten the most important part: how we will properly distribute the white bison."
The Cihuacóatl spoke once more: "According to the data provided by my assistants, there are 100 white bison, 5 adult males, 45 adult females, and 45 calves and juveniles."
He paused to look at the Huey Tlatoani, and after he nodded in agreement, convinced he had not been deceived, he continued.
"Of the prairie bison, according to our estimates, there are around 100,000 of these specimens. We do not yet know the composition because there are too many, but according to our calculations, they should be in nearly the same proportion as the white bison."
Everyone understood how many there were, but the main problem remained. A young merchant stood out, interrupting everyone's thoughts.
Tlacaélel, a veteran merchant, nodded. "Moctezuma is right. But we must also recognize the merchants' capacity to manage resources. I propose an alliance between nobles, priests, and merchants to guarantee and maximize these gifts from the gods."
Just when the discussion seemed endless, a servant of the great nobles, a humble-looking man but with eyes bright with intelligence, stepped forward and, with a firm yet respectful voice, interrupted. "Forgive my audacity, gentlemen," he began, "but I have been observing these magnificent animals and believe they can offer more than just meat and hides."
All eyes turned to him, some curious, others offended by his interruption.
"Continue," said the emperor, with a hand gesture.
Bison, strong and resilient, could enhance transportation by pulling carts and wagons, boosting trade and mobility within and beyond our city for more efficient markets and faster movement of goods and people.
The hall fell silent for a moment, then burst into murmurs. The servant's proposal had opened a new perspective.
Indeed, it had not yet been thought about what to do with these animals, whether to worship or eat them or what else they might be used for. I spent 90 minutes of my life enlightening this young man to break the deadlock a little.
The discussion intensified again, but this time with a new focus. The nobles debated who would have the right to train and handle the bison for transportation, while the merchants saw an opportunity to expand their businesses. The priests debated how this new use of the bison could be interpreted as a divine blessing or a challenge to tradition.
When you plan one thing and it turns out completely different, I thought it would be a meeting of at least an hour, but it has already been three hours, and they have not yet reached an agreement. So before leaving, I decided to propose something that might alleviate the situation.
Then I looked at my father, and he looked at me. I signaled that I wanted to speak.
"Silence, I order silence," my father, who had also run out of patience, raised his voice. Everyone fell silent, and silence reigned in the great hall.
"My son, Prince Cuauhtémoc, wants to speak and will be heard," my father demanded. I loved that sense of power, and influence, I desired more and more to be there and appreciate how it would truly be.
Then everyone turned their gaze to me. I was somewhat nervous; it was the first time I would speak with so many people watching me. I forced myself to calm down; it was the first step.
"Everyone, I know you are very concerned, and we are already tired. We can quickly resolve the white bison issue by separating them from the black bison. Then, each interest group will try to attract them. We say they are divine gifts sent by the gods themselves, so I believe everything is already determined, while the black bison, I don't know," I said in panic, but I managed to finish expressing my idea.
Before they could refute me, my father intervened.
"For the white bison, it will be done this way. No one will oppose it. As for the prairie bison, they will be distributed my way. The merchants, priests, and nobles will each receive 20%. Each of you will gather to divide them. The remaining 40% will be mine: 10% to be sold to the Mācēhualtin people, 10% for the state, and the remaining 20% for my family."
And so the meeting ended, even if they wanted to refute, no one would be foolish enough to be the first, as the distribution was relatively fair.